


All of the night was quite barred out, except an owl’s cry

by happybibliosaurus



Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brief hint of PTSD, Bucky needs a hug, Clint Needs a Hug, Confused Steve Rogers, Deaf Clint Barton, Idiots in Love, M/M, Owls?, Tattoos, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-09 00:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15255681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happybibliosaurus/pseuds/happybibliosaurus
Summary: So Steve had definitely not prepared for that to happen when he was finally introduced Bucky to the rest of the Avengers.  There were plans in place if Bucky was overwhelmed, or if he was triggered, or if he decided that he needed to leave, but there were no plans in place for, well, not … that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Work title is taken from the Poem 'The Owl' by Edward Thomas.  
> I had this dream the other night that Steve took Bucky home to meet the other avengers, and that he and Clint promptly started making out, much to Steve's confusion. Then I wrote this.

So Steve had definitely not prepared for that to happen when he was finally introduced Bucky to the rest of the Avengers. He had been wanting to do it for months, but there were so many loopholes to jump through, and weeks of planning to make sure that everything went well. There were plans in place if Bucky was overwhelmed, or if he was triggered, or if he decided that he needed to leave, but there were no plans in place for, well, not … that.

**[#]**

It had been months since the Commander, or as he later learned, Alexander Pierce, had called him. Months since those words had been uttered, his memories washed away like they were dirty laundry. A few were coming back now, in slivers and traces. Most of them were ones he wanted to block out, so he hadn't put effort into processing them. 

HYDRA had fallen, taking Pierce and his captors down with it. He'd found Steve, _(Stevie!)_ and spent months in a bright, white, clean medical ward, with people always coming and going, some talking to him in a quiet concerned manner, but most giving him sad, pitying looks instead. Steve had come and visited him almost everyday, and talked to him like he was a human being, telling him all he had missed, what had changed, and excitedly reciting stories from their childhood, most of which Bucky could not remember. He hadn't the heart to tell Steve that he had been 'around' for most of the last 70 years, and had noticed the changes in society and technology that Steve explained to him excitedly, in excruciating details. Occasionally Natasha or Sam had come too, and he had found them friendly enough, despite Sam's pitying gazes and Natasha's wary distance. In fact everyone he had met so far was nicer than everyone who had spoken to him in the last 70 years.

Steve had so many questions. He couldn't answer most of them - His memories only gave him the barest insight into the last 70 years, and he wasn't 100% that everything he remembered was the truth. He persevered though, and Steve, and the others, were able to help him understand the barebones of what happened to him. How HYDRA had changed his body, carving him into a weapon, and taking away everything he had been.

It wasn't something that he was greatly intrigued in knowing. He had been used as a weapon by HYDRA, and he had killed so many. That was what mattered to him.

The thing that bothered Bucky Barnes far more than what HYDRA had done to him, was the tattoo on his wrist.

 _'Ninox'_ it read.

Nobody at SHIELD seemed to know what it meant, when he asked, nor had it be mentioned when they had found HYDRA's files about him, after raiding a disused based in Serbia. Steve swore that he hadn't had it before.  
But he knew there was something significant about it - he remembered fighting them for it - but he couldn't remember the significance of it. Only that it was important to him. That it was the name of someone important.

Finally he had been given the go ahead to move out of the medical ward. Steve had insisted he come to live in the Tower with the avengers, and Bucky hadn’t tried to fight him on that. He really hadn’t, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. 

It was of course daunting, but he had met most of them anyway, (well, he had heard Tony arguing with people in the corridor, but he still counted that), and if Steve trusted them, then that was fine by him. 

He had followed Steve round the tower, building potential escape routes in his mind, and studying each of the avengers carefully, to assess their faults. A force of habit. (He had pretty much figured the Tony’s was Steve, and with the way they acted with each other, he was surprised neither of them had realised that yet.)

“And this is the living room,” Steve gestured, pointing to a well lit, spacious room, containing various sofas, bean bags, coffee tables and TV set. 2 escape routes, he noted out of habit in his head, out back to the kitchen, or throuh the windows. 35 stories up, 400ft he estimated.

“I guess you’ve met Sam and Natasha already,” Steve sounded nervous as he gestured to the crowd watching football on the huge screen. “But this is Thor,” – large blonde alien guy with a hammer, yes he was hard not to miss, honestly _Stevie_ \- “and Bruce, and Clint.” The small brunette guy gave him a shy wave, looking terribly nervous. He seemed the wariest out of them all.‘As he should be’, Bucky thought angrily, giving him a long hard glare. He had been briefed about the scientist's alter ego, and he was equally wary in return. The latter, Clint, didn’t even turn around, to concentrated in the game. So invested in the game in fact, that he had stood up, knocking over a bowl of jelly beans – _jelly beans?_ – and was angrily screaming insults at the TV, ignoring Bucky's entrance completely..

There is something familiar about him, though Bucky is not sure what. He notes the dirty blonde hair, the scar down the back of his neck, and the hearing aids on either ear. Warmth grows in him. A warmth he definitely doesn’t understand.

“Clint,” Steve spoke sternly, in what Bucky knew was his ‘Captain America’ voice - full of disappointment in it's telling of, forcing whoever was on the receiving end to feel immediately guilty.

At that, Clint whipped around, indignantly shouting back, “Cmon cap, are you really going to tell me not swear at the TV when they are all acting like fucking ass-“ 

The archer stopped mid-sentence and stared at Bucky. 

Something in Bucky clicked. He knew exactly why this guy looked so familiar.

Exactly. 

Why.

“Ninox?” he questioned, already knowing the answer but needing confirmation. Confirmation that what his brain was telling him was real.

Clint nodded, and a large smile appeared on his scared face. Bucky knew that smile so well.

“Tyto,” Clint replied, rolling his sleeve up to show at tattoo on his wrist. Bucky didn't need to lean forward to know what it was. He knew that it was Tyto - Ninox's, wait no, Clint's name for him - written in his handwriting on the archer's wrist. A tattoo matching of his own.

His lip's quirked and a small smile moved onto his face, before he leapt towards Clint, and, ignoring Steve’s confused cries and the others stares, Bucky promptly pushed the archer into the sofa, his body on top of Clint's. Then it was a rush of their bodies and movements; lips on lips, hands on chests, the two kissing with violent passion. A rush of emotions flowed through Bucky, warming him up, as Clint kissed him back with equal gumption, his hands rushing up and downing his back and chest, tracing each others muscles and scars.

In the background he heard Tony Stark cough loudly.

“Anyone want to explain to me why the world’s two deadliest assassins are making out like horny teenagers on MY GOD DAMN COUCH!”

“Nope,” replied Clint, breaking his lips away from Bucky's, and quickly standing up, and dragging Bucky by his flesh arm out towards his bedroom.

The rest of the Avengers stared in silence as they made their exit.

Steve sat down in shock, his legs not able to hold him anymore. There had been no plans in place for that. 

Though, on the balance of things, it had gone better than he expected.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote a prequel/sequel. I decided to post it as a second chapter rather than I separate work. I just thought it worked better that way, as it follows directly on from before.   
> Also, I read back the first part and realised it doesn't make much sense without this part perhaps? Well, it does and it doesn't. *Sigh*   
> This is kind of my first real piece of writing, so I am not really sure what I am doing, but enjoy anyways.
> 
> All the places and dates mentioned are just pulled at random from my head. Not canon.

“How much do you remember?” Clint asked, running his fingers through the other assassin’s hair, who was curled up, warm against his side. 

Bucky paused his hand which had been absentmindedly caressing a scar on the archer’s chest and scrolled through his cluttered memories. The sight and touch of Clint had triggered a lot in his head, but he had yet to make sense of what he remembered. 

**[#]**

_Casablanca, June 2007_

The first time the Winter Soldier had seen the other sniper he had tried to kill him. They were aiming for the same target, but Clint had had the better perch to take the shot, so the obvious solution had been to take Clint out, and for him to take the shot himself.

The other sniper did not go down without a fight, which didn't surprised him. What surprised the Winter Soldier was that the other sniper tried to knock him out using a bow. 

“A bow and arrows, really?!” He muttered mockingly under his breath, once he had got the Archer into a headlock. Why was this guy using a weapon that had only ever been moderately successful back in the 15th century, where it belonged? 

“Got a problem with that, Handsome?” The archer had rasped back, face going purple. It suited him.

The Winter Soldier paused for a moment. Nobody ever tried to joke with him. Nobody even talked to him as a human being. Yet the man he was currently suffocating the life out of seemed inclined to flirt at him, with his dying breath. He liked this man. Perhaps killing him was not essential to the mission …?

He released the archer, who glared at him as he got his breath back. 

“You know, there are other ways to get people to compliment you, besides trying to strangle them,” the guy accused, a wry smile on his face. The Winter soldier could have sworn he winked at him as well.

He stared back at the archer, perplexed, before turning to the street below, where the target was due to appear in the next ten minutes and began setting up his rifle. He couldn’t help but think the guy was very could looking. Blonde hair, cheekbones, a flirtatious grin, and woooh, look at his arms. Yes, plea- wait no, no distractions. He had a mission. The Winter Soldier does not get distracted. 

The archer sighed and came to stand overlooking the street a couple of metres away. 

“Not much of a talker huh?” He muttered. “I presume you are after Mr. Has-been-selling-intelligence-to-just-about-anyone-as-well-as-the-occasional-chemical-weapon too?”

The Winter Soldier turned to give him a glare but gave no response. 

The Archer gave another sigh. “Okay, we’ll start simple then. What’s your name?” He remained silent and glaring. Another sigh.

“You do realise I will keep talking till I get some kind of response going.”

The Winter Soldier gave it some thought. He guessed he could respond, if only to shut then other sniper up. 

The only problem was he didn’t know what his name was. Maybe he didn’t have one? If he did, he didn’t remember anyone ever using it.

“They call me The Soldier,” he responded gruffly. It was the only name anyone had called him as far as he could recall. Oh, and “sometimes the Asset,” he added.

The Archer snorted. It was embarrassing and strangely adorable. “Pff, that’s not a real name.”

He didn’t respond to that. He didn’t need to talk to this guy. It wasn’t useful to his mission.

“Fine,” the archer continued, “if you won’t tell me your name, I’m going to give you one.” He paused, putting his hand to his chin in mock thinking pose. “I’m going to call you Tyto, my friend.”

Tyto? Friend? This guy was an idiot. A class A asshole. So why couldn’t he help himself in asking the archer’s name back.

“Aww, that’s not fun. You can’t not give me your name and then ask me mine. Nope, not happening. You can call me Ninox though if you want.” 

“Ninox?” The Winter Soldier muttered, trying it on his tongue. Whoever this guy was he was a strange character. 

3 minutes the target was down and the archer had swung his bow onto his back, and blown the Winter Soldier a kiss, before strutting off.

“Till next time, Tyto!”

“Bye Ninox,” he had whispered, after the other man had safely disappeared. Strangely, he really did hope there would be a next time.

**[#]**

_Minsk, April 2008_

The next time they had met was almost a year later. 

It was a case of the same target and the same position all over again. The Winter Soldier tried to kill the Archer. The Archer flirted at him shamelessly until he stopped suffocating him and he had remembered his name. 

Nobody had called him back after the target was down, so he had followed Ninox back to his safe house. It had been freezing cold, and somehow, he had found himself curled up next to him under a patchwork blanket, staring at him. For some reason he felt strangely content around this odd man, and he could feel a curious and unknown feeling rising in his chest that he couldn’t explain.

He knew that he shouldn’t be here, allowing himself to stray from his orders, and that he should leave, yet he couldn’t take his eyes from watching (admiring) the rise and fall of Ninox’s chest.

**[#]**

_Cannes, August 2008_

3 months later, he found the archer again, conducting surveillance from a hotel room in Belarus. By the time he remembered who the other sniper was (his Ninox), he had completely trashed the room, ruining several expensive looking chairs, slicing a chest of drawers, and knocking the fridge over. He had also managed to hit Ninox over the head with a microwave, causing blood to pore out of his forehead from a nasty looking gash.

“Ninox?” he muttered, looking at then other man in horror. How had he not recognised him sooner? He’d spent enough time staring at those arms to recognise them a mile off. Grief, shame and confusion flowed through him, and he sat down on the floor, head in knees, rocking back and forth. He couldn’t remember anything now he considered it. All he could remember was his mission, and … and … and Ninox? He had known that when they reset him they removed his memories of the mission, yet the memories of Ninox flooded back to him. The men with the chair could not have known about him, so could not remove the memories, but they were still foggy in his mind and -

Before his line of thinking could continued any further, he heard a small cough from behind.

“Hey Tyto, if your going to have a breakdown, could you at least stop me bleeding my brains out into carpet first please.”

And fuck, there was an awful lot of blood now on the carpet under Ninox’s head.

At that, the Winter Soldier had gently cleaned and stitched the wound on his head, and carried him onto the only surviving chair, placing the Archer’s head in his lap, and gently stroked his hair.  
“Hmm, you’re like a giant possessive kitty, you know” Ninox muttered, his eyes blinking sleepily up at him.

“And you’re like an injured baby bird,” he snarked back.

“You didn’t deny it though,”

Bucky didn’t not what to say to that, so instead leaned in for a kiss. Ninox leaned into it, and for almost a minute there was nothing else. 

When he eventually pulled away, Ninox smiled up at him. It was beautiful, and so pure, and Bucky could not help the small smile that played on his lips in return.

Silence followed, and the Winter Soldier stared out of the window, holding his Ninox in his lap, until he finally fell asleep. The Archer’s quiet breathing soothed him, and he felt the most content he had felt since … well…#

But he hadn’t the time to stay here. If he did he would risk them finding out about his Ninox and taking him away. The only thing he had in his life that was his. Regretfully, he lifted the Archer’s head up enough to place a pillow underneath and slipped out. 

Reaching the door, he gave the Archer a last look. In the distant moonlight, he looked like a ghost. Unreal, but peaceful. Acting on impulse, he took the 3 steps back and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

It took all his remaining energy to leave it at that.

**[#]**

_Sarajevo, March 2009_

“We have to stop meeting like this, Opus,” the Archer had laughed, whilst rubbing the spot where Bucky had tried to strangle him again. It would surely bruise later. 

“Sorry,” He had mumbled back, wringing his hands nervously.

“Nah, don’t worry Tyto. I like having a baby duckling that follows me round. Keeps me on my toes,” Ninox had laughed back.

“Baby Duckling?” 

“Don’t worry, you’re a very badass baby duckling.”

A small smile played on the Winter Soldier’s lips, until he saw Ninox rub his neck again. It was definitely going to bruise. He felt embarrassed. Why had he hurt Ninox – his only ‘friend’ in the world – before his memories start to kick in? He stared at the floor, shame filling his body.

“Sorry. I, I just, I just don’t remember things. Thing’s, not just you, just all stuff…”

Ninox had stared concerned at the Winter Soldier, looking unsure how to respond. To his great relief he didn’t decide to go down that particular rabbit hole, but instead sighed, and said “Well, I’ve got an idea on how to help solve that problem.”

He had then silently tattooed his name – Ninox – into Bucky’s wrist. Bucky concentrated on the hand on his arm, holding him, but gently so. Nobody ever touched him like this, and the simple casual contact made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

Weapons didn’t get warm fuzzy feelings inside.

Maybe he wasn’t a weapon? No, no, stupid. The Winter Soldier was a weapon. An asset. 

When he was done, Ninox had proudly smiled up at Bucky. “See, now you can never forget my name.”

It was a simple gesture, but it meant so much to him. Without words, Bucky had made for the Archer’s wrist and repeated the gesture, tattooing Tyto onto his wrist, and smiling back at the Archer when he had finished, not quite wanting to let go of where their hands had intertwined. 

They had an hour before Ninox had to report back. Heavy making out had followed.

The Winter Soldier thought it was great.

**[#]**

_The Middle of Nowhere, Canada, February 2011_

It was cold. And they hadn’t seen each other for almost 2 years. So, yeah, maybe they had found their own way to get warm in the back of the car. Twice.

**[#]**

_Prague, October 2012_

The last time they had been together was after The Battle of New York. It was Clint’s first solo mission since Loki had controlled him. The first time SHIELD had trusted him to do a mission on his own again. It was an easy one. Take out the target. Report back to the safe house. Await extraction. Not that he had known that then.

Two in the morning, the Soldier had found the safehouse where Ninox was hiding out. He had spotted the archer at a distance before and had finally tracked him down. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing here, but he was here. 

And there was his Ninox.

And he remembered who he was before trying to strangle the life out of him.

That was a first.

He stood in the shadows, watching Ninox who was standing the in the middle of the room ready to fight of an intruder, and raised his arms slowly to show he wasn’t going to hurt him. Ninox sighed, and smiled at him, before curling up on the sofa nearest the fire.

“Tyto,” he whispered, so quietly that Bucky wasn’t sure if he actually had said it, or if he imagined it. Either way, relief sinked into his bones, and he sat back down on the sofa next to the other assassin, leaving room between the two of them. That lasted for all but 2 minutes before he caved in and crawled over to the Archer, wrapping his arms around him, and pressing his cheek to the Archer’s temple.

At the contact, a single tear fell down Ninox’s face. His body quivered, as more and more silent tears trickled down his face, long overdue and freeing.   
Clint had not cried after Loki's controlled was relinquished. He didn't cry after Coulson's death. He didn't cry after New York fell to its knees. Again, Bucky didn’t know this, but he didn’t need to know. 

Instead, he said nothing, but continued to hold the Archer all night.

Carefully, he slipped out before the sun rose, planting a small kiss on the Archer’s cheek, before disappearing again.

**[#]**

A couple of months later, Bucky asked Clint, “Why Ninox and Tyto?”

Clint had laughed back at him (in the endearing way he did whenever Bucky said anything which he deemed obvious. Bucky both hated and loved him for it.)

“Well, Tyto is a genus of barn owls, and when I first meet you, you really reminded me of a barn owl. You know, all ghost like and silent, and shit. It just really suited you.”

“And Ninox?”

“Oh, that one is obvious.”

Bucky glared back at him and stole Clint’s coffee away from him. Clint gave him a cute puppy-like scowl and made grabby hands towards the coffee. Bucky shock his head, and pulled it further way.

“Fine. Ninox is another genus of owls. Also know as hawk-owls.” 

Of course, that was it. Clint really was the biggest, most idiotic, human disaster of a child, so of course his name meant just that. Gosh, he loved that man so much.

Clint smiled back up at Bucky, and went to grab his coffee back, but instead tripped and spilt the coffee down his chest.

“Aw, Coffee, no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Shaken out long and clear upon the hill   
> No merry note, nor cause of merriment,   
> But one telling me plain what I escaped   
> And others could not, that night, as in I went."  
> \- Edward Thomas, The Owl.
> 
> The chapter title is taken from this poem, because a) Owls, and b) it kind of fits, nicely? I don't know, but it made sense in my head.
> 
> I reaallyyy want to write more Winterhawk. I just love them so much.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting open on my laptop for a solid fortnight now, so I decided to post it, despite not being quite sure about it. I'm not that pleased with it, but oh well.
> 
> I also started a second part, sequel/prequel, to this that I post at some point if I feel the urge to finish it.


End file.
